


Nemesis

by Jael



Series: The Five Cities [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Assassins Guild, F/M, Legion of doom - Freeform, Thieves Guild, arrowverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: The sequel to "Thief & Assassin," my CaptainCanary/Arrowverse fantasy AU. Leonard and Sara are content as lovers and heads of their respective Guilds in Centralis. However, newcomers to the city may ruin all that-and the peace of the kingdom itself.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I highly suggest reading "Thief & Assassin" before you read this. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta and Pir8grl for the title.

Sara woke in warmth, wrapped in a pair of strong arms, content. It took her a moment to register the context, helped by the scent of mint and leather, but when she did, she relaxed again, sighing into Len’s collarbone, tightening her arms again, reminding herself that it was just a dream.

Even as blue light flickered along the edges of her vision.

After a few moments, though, she glanced up again, judging the faint light as it shone on the wall opposite the window, then sighed.

“Len,” she whispered.

“Mmfh,” was the result.

“Len.” Sara smiled a little against his collarbone. “Remember. It’s your first day on the Council.”

A long silence.

Then, muttered, “Was dead when you all agreed to that.”

Sara snorted, hiding the pang the words caused. “You weren’t dead. You were just…elsewhere.”

“Still didn’ agree.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have waited until…” She lifted her head a little, squinting. “…less than two candlemarks until the meeting to argue.”

Another muffled noise. Definitely profanity.

Sara waited a moment. Then, smirking, she leaned forward and nibbled, delicately, on his collarbone.

The sound Len made was satisfying incoherent. He opened his eyes just enough for Sara to see a sliver of blue, then closed them again.

So she did it again.

The noise this time was even rougher. Hands wrapping around her shoulder blades convulsively, nearly spanning her back as he just barely kept his blunt nails from digging into her skin, Len tightened his arms. He stretched against her, and oh holy hells, maybe that was a bad idea. Sara dragged in a rough breath herself, attempting to keep herself from wrapping her legs around him, then tried to find her voice again.

“Len,” she said raggedly. “You don’t have court clothes here. You have…”

There was that glimpse of blue again, beneath lashes, just a flash. And that…that _jerk_ smirked at her!

“Well,” he purred. It was definitely a purr. “Guess I can’t go.”

Sara narrowed her eyes at him. “Leonard…”

“Ah, it’s ‘Leonard’ now, is it?” Abruptly, he ducked his head and kissed her, deeply, soundly. Sara gave in, moving convulsively against him, moving her own hands to go flat against his lower back, pressing him closer.

Given their activities of last night, the ones that had led to Len staying there where he probably shouldn’t have, neither one of them is precisely clothed. OK, they’re not clothed at all. And it doesn’t take much, not so much at all, for her to squirm around underneath him, pulling him on top of her, and…

He was definitely going to be late.

* * *

Leonard was, quite technically, late to his first Council meeting. He sauntered into the palace room as if he wasn’t, though, looking remarkably well-put-together, he thought, for someone who’d borrowed the Assassins Guild’s fastest horse, been chased by guards on his way here (until Barry had called them off—he’s going to hear about that later) and had a hasty wash-up in his rooms before pulling on the spare court outfit there.

To his amusement, Rip wasn’t there yet—which meant, of course, that Len was only _technically_ late. The smirk on his face grew as he made his way to an empty seat, hearing the talk in the room pause briefly. Well, so far, they’ve dealt with Harrison, Sara, and Martin in the new Guild seat. They’ll manage with him.

He’d forgotten, however, that his role as the head of the Thieves Guild wasn’t the reason they were staring. Or, at least, not the only reason.

Although he was abruptly recalled to it when he heard someone whisper “Druce.”

And then “time stone.”

And then “resurrected.” Uttered in a tone of utter reverence.

Len turned his head casually toward the last speaker, a young man from the Declan family. The fellow colored as he saw Len’s gaze, but didn’t look away and…ah, hell, what was he going to do with a Council member with a bona fide hero worship case/crush on him?

He wasn’t the only one staring either. Not all, or most, of the looks were like that, thank gods, but there was also wonder, awe, fear. He was the man who vanished into time and came back, and although he didn’t remember a damned thing about it (except maybe in his dreams), apparently the tale had made an impression.

But then Rip swept in to the room, looking a bit harried as usual, Gideon trailing serenely in his wake, and the Council members stood. And Len decided to leave it be. For now.

* * *

Sara wasn’t unhappy that she got to have a slightly more relaxed morning, although after Len’s hasty departure she’d still chosen to get out of bed, washing and dressing and having a semi-leisurely breakfast before letting the apprentice at the door know she was available.

She also had a few scheduled appointments, with people who wanted to contract a member of the Guild. The first was a major “no” nearly immediately, as it became clear that the intense man with the abrupt manner wanted someone to eliminate the man who’d married the woman he “loved.” Sara ascertained quickly that the woman had married the other man willingly, even happily, and turned the would-be patron down flat with a warning—and then dumped him out on his ear when he’d reacted badly. That’d been fun.

The next appointment had been with a high-end jeweler who wanted to hire particularly lethal-looking protection for the opening of his new shop in the noble district. Sara took a shine to him, and they’d quickly hashed out a contract for two members of the Guild, to be chosen by her.

And then there was the third. The quiet woman, well dressed and wearing a ring betokening her mastery in the Artisans Guild, told Sara that her former spouse was effectively stalking her and her two daughters, terrifying the girls and saying he was going to take them away, warning people away from her business of making and selling handwoven shawls with false claims of poor quality, and threatening her with death or worse whenever he could find her without witnesses.

The Guard had warned him multiple times and posted a detail outside her shop, but they couldn’t be everywhere…and while they could and had taken him into custody before, they couldn’t hold him forever. Not unless he did something more…at which point it could be rather too late.

Sara would do further investigation first, of course, but she was already inclined to take the contract the other woman, desperately, delicately, offered. Perhaps personally.

“No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men,” she told Master Anna seriously. “Come back in a few days. And we’ll talk again.”

After all that, she spent an hour or so continuing in her project to renovate Darhk’s former quarters, with the eager apprentice Sin helping her haul out the things she deemed safe enough and setting aside any items she wanted to have a representative of the Mages Guild check first before disposing of. Sara was just considering a dagger she’d found in an oddly elaborate box, found in a hidden compartment in the closet, when she glanced up at a noise at the door.

She climbed to her feet immediately, smiling, setting the box aside. “Amaya!”

The other woman smiled and happily accepted Sara’s hug. “Oh, come on. It hasn’t been that long!”

“Well, it feels like it.” Once Sara had settled into the Assassins Guild, her friend had decided to take a set of rooms off Guild row and investigate the other Guilds, trying to find where she fit in in this new environment. She had been spending a great deal of time with Len’s old friend and second in the Thieves Guild, Mick, but the big man rather notably hadn’t been mentioning her lately and Sara hadn’t seen her in her own visits to that Guild hall.

She paused, studying Amaya, who was wearing her traditional Zambesi garb today and looking amused and curious. “Are you and Mick…”

“Ah.” The other woman glanced away. “I haven’t seen him. Recently. Is he…well?”

“Well enough, from what I’ve seen.” Sara regarded her a moment longer.  “The historian?” she said with a sigh. “Is that it?”

Raymond Palmer A’Stella, the head of the city Artificers Guild, had introduced Sara and Amaya to his friend Nathaniel, the city historian and an instructor at the University, when they’d been trying to learn more about Zaman Druce in the aftermath of…of the Oculus incident. Sara had noticed that her friend and the historian had hit it off, but she’d been rather distracted herself at the time…and Mick and Amaya, she’d thought, had been approaching something, although Sara herself hadn’t had the heart to inspect it too closely at the time.

Amaya smiled at her, but her expression seemed uncertain, a bit. “He’s a good man.”

“I’m sure, but…” Sara let her voice train off. “As long as you’re happy.” Amaya still seemed uncertain, though, and Sara decided to change the subject. “I think I need a break.” She brushed off her tunic, smiling at her friend. “How about some lunch?”

Amaya seemed a little relieved. “That would be lovely. There’s a new place near city center that’s actually supposed to have some Zambesi-inspired dishes. Would you be willing…”

“Sounds great.” Sara turned and saw Sin, sitting on the floor surrounded by discarded papers and watching them wide-eyed. “Sin? Would you like to come with us?” She smiled at the girl as Sin bounded to her feet. “A thank you for all you’re helping me with.”

“Really? I can?” The girl looked ecstatic, then clearly tried to regain her calm. “I may, I’d like to very much, Master Assassin. If that is OK.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.” Sara briefly wondered if the Council meeting had let out yet, then smirked to herself, imagining Len’s reaction if it hadn’t. “OK, ladies. Let’s go.”

* * *

The Council meeting lasted far longer than even Len had feared. He’d hoped, with the old Council gone, that things were going to be a little less…well, long. Drawn-out. Combative.

Well, they weren’t really the last. But the newcomers wanted to talk about _everything_ , including ways to make sure a Druce situation didn’t happen again. And new rules. Lots of rules.

So. Many. Rules.

With a sigh, Leonard walked back into the Guild hall, nodding to the apprentice there…and nearly walking right into the man who rose from one of the armchairs in the entry chamber.

“Greetings,” the man said smoothly. “I’m looking for Guild Master Leonard Snart.”

Len buried the flinch he felt. “I don’t use that name,” he told the stranger, knowing that his tone was a little harsh. “Just Leonard A’Centralis. And you are?”

The other man, brown-haired and fairly unremarkable, gave him a thin smile. “Eobard Thawne.” He paused, as if Leonard should know the name, then continued. “I knew your father, once. And…”

But Leonard had held up a hand. He had a feeling this was a conversation he wanted to move to his office. Anything involving Lewis tended to be. “Let’s take this elsewhere.” He motioned toward the stairs. “Follow me, please.”

Eobard—Leonard hadn’t missed that he hadn’t provided a patrial—did so amenably enough, and once they were there, he declined to take a seat, watching Leonard closely. So, Leonard did the same, standing, considering him.

“Lewis has been gone a while,” he told the other man, trying to keep his own distaste out of his voice. “And I will admit, I’ve never heard of you. I’m not sure if I can help you.”

Eobard gave him another one of those bland smiles. “I understand that he is now…deceased,” he said. “But…my associates…and I are looking for a talented thief, and I understand that you are, to all accounts, far better than he.” He tilted his head. “So. Are you interested in a job?”

Leonard gave him a thin smile in return. “Not that interested in anything Lewis was, personally,” he drawled. “But you want to tell me more about it, perhaps I can find someone who will fit your needs.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t lose that bland smile. “We shall see,” he said after a moment. “I’d hoped to keep this just between us.” A shrug. “Well, then, I think before I make any further requests, I need to look into another piece of the puzzle.” He paused. “Is the Assassins Guild still down the row? The red brick building?”

All the alarms went off in Leonard’s head.

“It is,” he said promptly, hiding them. “But I don’t think they have appointment hours today.” They did and he knew it, but if he could just stall this oddly unsettling man a little longer, they’d be over. And he could warn Sara first. He considered Thawne thoughtfully as the man frowned.

Sara could deal with things herself. Len knew that. But that didn’t mean he was that inclined to ignore the ripple of instinctive alarm that this Thawne caused in him.

“You know, I think I need more information before I can truly turn down the job myself, if it’s that important,” he said before the other man turned away, layering cold confidence and utterly justifiable ego into his voice. “I _am_ the best. But the price would have to be worth it.”

Thawne’s expression changed again. It became almost smug, as though he figured he had Leonard hooked for reasons he hadn’t revealed yet.

“Oh, it is,” he said simply, stepping back toward one of the chairs. “Shall we talk?”

* * *

Lunch, with its Zambesi spices, was pleasantly hot, and while Sara had to get poor Sin an additional carafe of water (or two) after even her milder meal, they all enjoyed it. Sara and Amaya, still catching up, decided to go for a stroll in the marketplace after, watching Sin go from stall to stall while eagerly looking at all the wares.

“I don’t know,” Amaya was saying, smiling as she watched the girl looking wide-eyed at a mask-makers stall. “I thought about joining the Mages Guild, but it’s just not the same…the same sort of magic, not really.” She touched the totem at her throat. “Still, I’m intrigued about the work they’re doing there. And there’s not a true Warriors Guild here. There’s the army and the Triple Guard…and the Assassins Guild, which really does need a new name, you know.”

Sara smiled a little, thoughtfully. “I’ve thought about it. You’re really right; it’s not what we really do. A holdover, really, from when the League started the Guild…” She laughed as Amaya turned to her, eyes wide. “Ah, you didn’t know that, did you? Most people don’t. Many years ago, in this very city. Then it spread.” She shook her head. “But the connection’s not really there any more, not in most cases. And, well, that’s not all or even most of what the Guild does anymore.”

Amaya raised both eyebrows but smiled and didn’t ask. “That’s true. Well, I’ve been at the University a lot too, lately, reading in the library, which is how I met Nate again, and…well.”

“It’s Nate, is it?” Sara tried to keep her thoughts from showing. She liked Mick. “Well, if he makes you happy.”

“He does.” But Amaya’s smile didn’t seem to meet her eyes this time and she shrugged, stopping to look at a mask herself, a lioness worked in rich brown and golden leather. “How’s Leonard?”

“Well.” Sara knew the smile on her own face might be a little foolish, but that was OK. She reached out to run a fingertip along the smooth surface of a mask that had caught her eye, a white falcon with black-edged feathers, fierce-looking and beautiful. “He’s well. Although he filled in at his first Council meeting today and he wasn’t all that happy about that.”

“Ouch.” Amaya chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. How…”

But Sara had looked away at that moment, toward a flicker of motion that had somehow caught her eye, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw what seemed to be a familiar set of features.

It couldn’t be.

Still, she started that way, needing to know, needing to know if her mind was playing a particularly dirty trick on her, if this particular ghost of her past was still a ghost or if it was all too real.

She heard Amaya ask a question, heard Sin’s voice rise, but Sara was already gone, pushing through the crowd, chasing the figure in black. It stayed just ahead of her, and she thought he…it…was gone a few times, but she kept going, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart and the questions she couldn’t avoid.

And then she burst into an open area, saw a dark figure to her right, and turned that way…and there he was, right on the shore of the canal that wound its way through the city, looking as casual as if he’d been waiting for her.

“Well, well.” Malcolm Merlyn smirked at her, leaning against a tree, looking unsurprised. “If it isn’t the woman who wouldn’t stay dead.”

Sara glanced behind herself involuntarily, but Amaya and Sin hadn’t caught up to her yet, and she looked back around to glare at Malcolm. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The dark-haired man continued to smirk at her. “I’m here with a…a colleague, of sorts,” he said, studying Sara. “Though I guess I should warn him off his visit to the Assassins Guild.” He nodded to the emblem she wore openly. “I’m guessing Damien is dead. Pity.”

Sara didn’t dignify it with an answer, taking a step closer. “You’re not welcome here, Malcolm.”

Merlyn shrugged. “Oh, but I am. I’m on business.”

“And you were responsible for a large number of deaths in Stella, not all that long ago. I’m sure the Guard would be very interested to know that,” Sara shot back. “As would the king.”

The man lifted his eyebrows dramatically. “Oh, does little Sara have friends in high places these days? Interesting.” He shrugged again. “Well, I know plenty about you as well. I suggest that you hold your tongue. And I’ll do the same. M’kay?”

Sara took in a quick breath, but then she heard “Sara!” from behind her. She spun, seeing Amaya and Sin round the corner, heading in her direction.

“We completely lost track of you,” Amaya said, studying her as she came to a halt. “What were you doing?”

Sara turned back around…but she was too late.

Malcolm Merlyn was gone.

“I saw...a ghost,” she told them numbly, staring at the place where he’d stood. “Just a ghost.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta.
> 
> Yes, it's veering even more toward TimeShip. No regrets.

Sara went back and forth on telling Leonard about Malcolm Merlyn’s presence in the city for the next few hours, even as she bid a concerned Amaya farewell and took Sin back to the Guild hall. Merlyn was dangerous. Someone else should know about him—and they should tell the king, too.

But if she told Leonard about Merlyn, she should tell him about more of her own past. About how she ended up in the League. About her family. About Stella.

About the Pit.

And that’s where she always mentally recoiled, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She’d killed Damien Darhk because she’d caught him using dark magic, death magic. How would her friends here take it if they knew Sara’d been the recipient of that sort of magic herself? Even though it hadn’t been by her own will?

As it turns out, she doesn’t need to make a decision that night, because Leonard doesn’t show up. And that’s fine, really—they hadn’t made plans, and he has his own Guild to run (and she knows he keeps his hand in on jobs, too). But it does mean she doesn’t sleep well, undistracted by a lover, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the nightmares that still lurk in the darkness behind her eyes.

Fortunately, though, Sara didn’t have anything to do early the next day. She did a little research on the cases of the day before, chose candidates for the guard job, and led some middle-level Guild members through a rousing sparring session. Then she washed, changed, and headed for the palace.

There have been a number of surprises in her life since moving to Centralis. Her friendship with the seneschal is one of them.

Gideon glanced up as Sara entered her office, smiling, but she didn’t stop speaking to the young palace worker who was watching her so intently. Sara leaned against the wall and waited, idly inspecting the space, from the weapons that Gideon now displayed openly to the painting of a sky strewn with stars that hung on another wall.

Then a word or two in the conversation caught her ear. Sara’s eyes snapped to Gideon, who very carefully didn’t look at her. And after a few more moments, the girl left and the two women regarded each other, Gideon with quiet expectation and Sara with great trepidation.

Finally, the latter spoke.

“A full royal ball,” she said carefully, moving toward the desk. “Really?”

The seneschal nodded. She looked amused at Sara’s dismay, but there was something else there too...

“When?” Sara asked again before she could try to analyze it—yet.

“A seven-day.” Gideon looked through some papers on the desk then, avoiding Sara’s eyes. “Which everyone keeps saying isn’t enough time, but I think we’ll be fine. The tailors and dressmakers will be frantic, of course, but they’ll also be making quite a good bit of money from this, so they won’t complain too much. It'll be announced tonight.”

“Why...”

Before Sara could finish the question, though, a kitchen servant poked his head in and asked politely if they were planning to eat in one of the gardens, the small dining room, or Gideon’s office—all of which they’ve done since starting this standing tradition. The seneschal, with a glance at Sara for confirmation, suggested one of the gardens, and they started that way as the man nodded and vanished to retrieve their food from the kitchens.

They didn’t pick up their conversation again until they’d settled, in an out-of-the-way corner of one of the lesser trafficked gardens—and even then, Gideon directed that conversation mostly to lighter topics, inquiring about happenings in the city, mutual acquaintances and Guild business. She was from her own country’s equivalent of the Assassins Guild, after all, brought in as a guard for the young prince, and the fact that her organizational skills made her ideal for the cover of the seneschal’s position had just been happenstance.

 Sara took the misdirection with mostly good grace, concentrating on her lunch, but once that was done and they were simply chatting over a cup of cold tea, she looked directly at her friend again.

“Why?” is all she said. It’s all that was needed. And Gideon nodded.

“Now that Druce isn’t working his way behind the scenes, plotting and messing things up, it has occurred to other kingdoms and localities that we have an unmarried king,” she said, folding her hands in front of herself, her voice precise and utterly without emotion. “Not a stripling, indeed, but still able to father heirs—or, equally or more convenient to some, one who already has an heir, should they decide to suggest the suit of a man, or a woman who does not wish to or cannot produce children. The connection is what’s most valuable.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise. But it was, somehow, and Sara just blinked at her for a long moment.

“But...a ball?” she managed finally. “That’s...like something out of a really cliché story...”

Gideon acknowledged that with a flicker of amusement and a tip of her head. “There are a few so-called royal or noble envoys arriving just before that time,” she said. “In reality, we’re quite certain they’re here to...see how they’ll suit. The king, I mean. Might as well get it all out there in the open. They’ll know why we’re doing it.”

There was a certain practicality there. But Sara just shook her head, unable to picture it.

“But what about _you_?” she blurted out after a moment.

“What about me?” But the seneschal glanced away, a tell she rarely displayed, a sign of unhappiness and discomfort. Sara waited, letting her decide how she wanted to address the matter, the reality that the king and his seneschal have been in a romantic relationship for a while now—and they’d been in love for even longer than that.

Finally, Gideon looked back at her, expression composed once again.

“I am...no one special in my country of origin, Sara,” she said carefully. “And monarchs do not often marry for love. Rip...the king was fortunate that he could, with his queen. I cannot even provide him with another heir.” She glanced away. “It’s possible he could wed again with the provision that he and his spouse would both keep separate households and we could...carry on, I suppose.” She looked down, though, at her hands, and Sara knew.

“You’ll leave,” she said regretfully. “Won’t you?”

Gideon hesitated only a moment before she nodded. “When the king weds, yes. I believe I shall resign. And leave. Perhaps I will return to my Guild.” She spread her hands out before her as Sara digested that “when.” “It was never meant to be, Sara. We are not the same kind.”

The words made Sara angry, for some reason, a rush of rage that’s not directed at Gideon or at the king, but rather at circumstances. The anger, she thought, has been sitting in her since she saw Malcolm Merlyn in this place where she’d been making a home for herself—here, she fears, to damage her life again, in one way or another. And now she might lose this friendship that has become precious to her as well.

“You make him happy,” she told the other woman heatedly, sitting back in her chair. “I haven’t known him for long, and I can see that. Isn’t that more valuable than any alliance based on a falsehood?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“Well, then, maybe I need to talk to the king.” But as Sara pushed back her chair and rose, Gideon did too, holding her hands up in a clear plea.

“Please,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t know. That I plan to leave. Let me be the one to tell him.”

“Will you do it before he agrees to wed someone else?” Sara shook her head as the seneschal hesitated. “You won’t, will you? You’ll let him make that mistake, knowing...”

“I can’t interfere in policy," Gideon told her, her own tone getting a little sharp. “I came here to guard the prince; I took on this role because it fit. I’ve become involved too much already, here. I...”

But her voice ran off then, and she glanced away. Sara’s a little startled to see what might almost be a sheen of tears in the usually pragmatic woman’s eyes. Then Gideon turned back toward her—and maybe it was just a trick of the light. She looked stoic yet again.

Maybe.

“I won’t,” Sara said into the silence. “But, Gideon...talk to him. Please. Don’t let him make this mistake without knowing, at least.”

Her friend, to Sara’s great regret, made no promises.

* * *

After the day and night he’s had, Leonard would, truly, like nothing more than to track down Sara, wrap his arms around her and fall into bed. To sleep, to talk, to lose himself in her so he doesn’t have to think about some of the sorry decisions he’s made in his life, including this latest one.

And that’s the last thing he should do.

He’d fallen in with Thawne, now, much to his current regret, in part because he was trying to distract the man and keep him away from Sara. Of course, the whole thing wound up being more complicated than that, and he’s pretty sure Thawne hasn’t told him everything, either.

So. He’ll get through it. He’ll finish the job, see Thawne and his still-unnamed associate out of his city with alacrity. And then it will be back to normal. Right?

Leonard looked down at the plans on his desk and sighed. He was increasingly sure that this was a mistake. And he was really, really sure that he needed to know more about the target…targets…than Thawne had told him.

Somehow, he needed to get to the university and do some research. How, and when…he wasn’t so sure.

“Hey.”

And while he knew he shouldn’t go to see Sara with this hanging over him, he’d been utterly unable to tell the doorkeeper to keep her out should she come to him. He took a deep breath and looked up, glancing over at where Sara leaned against the doorway, watching him with an oddly uncertain expression.

“Hey,” Leonard returned. He reached out casually for his journal, moving it toward him—and over the drawings. Sara didn’t seem to notice. She did move closer, though, studying him.

“Haven’t seen you since before the council meeting,” she asked. “How’d it go?”

Leonard snorted. Plans covered, he leaned back in his chair. “Talk, talk, talk. For far too long. But…” He shrugged. “I lived. And presumably, I’ll live through the next few meetings. I hope.”

Sara laughed, a little. The sound didn’t have much humor. She studied him a little longer. “What’s wrong?”

Leonard lifted his eyebrows. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

He blinked and stared at her. Frowning, Sara stared back.

Now, though, he looked closer. Saw the fault lines of trouble and worry etched between her eyes, in her frown. And he knew that something was bothering her just as much as something was bothering him. More, even.

“What’s bugging you, then?” he retorted, then held up a hand when she scowled. “I tell you, you tell me.”

Sara hesitated, then nodded. “You first.”

Leonard thought it through, then sighed. “I took a job that I…wish I hadn’t,” he said. “I’m just trying to get it done with and over. It’s really that simple.” He eyed her. “And you?”

Sara shook her head. “Not nearly that simple.” She moved into the room, closing the door behind her carefully, everything about her demeanor cluing Leonard in that the situation was bothering her far more than just his absence or an irritating job. He started to stand, concerned, but she waved him down again, pulling over the other chair in his office, turning it around and taking a seat. The back of the chair was between them, and she clutched it like a weapon, mouth still a straight line.

Sara took a deep breath and Leonard watched her, trying to look receptive and encouraging, even as a tendril of fear (of what, he’s not quite sure) coiled inside.

“I saw someone,” she said finally. “Yesterday afternoon, in the market. Someone from my past.”

Leonard studied her, considering who would draw this reaction. “Someone from the League?” he asked after a moment, when she remained quiet.

Sara’s lips twitched, but not in a smile. “Yes, actually, but that’s actually beside the point.” Her eyes went to his. “Not Nyssa.”

He nodded. He knew about Sara’s former love. This reaction…this wasn’t that sort of uncertainty. It was almost fear. Or was fear? From _Sara_?

“He’s dangerous,” she said, and maybe she didn’t realize how white her fingers were as they clutched the back of the chair. “And I don’t know why he’s here. He was surprised to see me; he’s not here for that. Still…it can’t be good.”

“Did you tell the Guard?” Len asked quietly, wanting to reach out to her but uncertain how that would be taken by a Sara in this odd, frightened mood. “You know Joe West is a good man. And I know you’re friendly with Kendra…”

But Sara shook her head quickly. “There are reasons I don’t want people to know about the connection,” she said, then stopped. Leonard let her work through whatever she was thinking, realizing that she was trying to decide what to tell him. This thing between them….it was still new, and he tried not to be a trifle disappointed that she hesitated so long. But they both had their pasts, and their secrets—he glanced briefly down at the hidden plans on his desk—and Sara was entitled to hers.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said quietly as her silence drew out.

That actually seemed to galvanize her. “No,” Sara said, shaking her head. “Someone needs to know. And I’d rather tell you than anyone else.” She gave him a tiny smile, but it’s a bit weary and uncertain. Leonard leaned forward, clasping his hands, eyes on her face, trying to look encouraging and nonjudgmental.

“Do you remember…” she started, then stopped. Sighed. Continued. “There was a reason I had a reaction to the stone that held Savage’s soul. Even though I don’t have any magic of my own.”

That was…not what he was expecting. Leonard tilted his head, trying not to show surprise, eyes still fixed on Sara’s face. And she continued, the words sending a chill down his spine.

“I was dead, Leonard,” she told him, voice bleak. “ _Dead_. For about a year.” Her shoulders hunched as a chill ran down his spine, and she shook her head, glancing away “And dark magic brought me back—through no will of my own, but still.”

She glanced at him, clearly expecting some sort of reaction, and not a good one. But Leonard was no idiot, and he wasn’t the sort to recoil without reason. He knew Sara Lance, in more ways than one, and he trusted that knowledge and bond between them. He studied her a moment, but then nodded matter of factly, keeping eye contact.

“You’re clearly alive now,” he said drily, reaching out a hand out, resting it gently on her still-tense hands. “And even if dark magic brought you back, that doesn’t mean it’s part of you. Right? Harrison would have sensed that.”

Sara stared at him like she couldn’t believe his reaction. “Well, no…I don’t think so. And, yes, I’m alive now; I’m not reliant on it. I…” She shook her head. “It wasn’t that easy, though. I didn’t have a soul at first, and…and then there was this…bloodlust…”

Her voice trailed off, and she sighed. “I think I’m past that. Finally. But it was bad enough at first that I couldn’t go back to Stella. And I’m still giving it some time. Eventually I’ll go, contact my father and sister again.”

She’d never mentioned her family before. Leonard considered her thoughtfully. “Do they know…”

“That I’m alive at all? Yes. My sister…” But Sara shook her head again, stopping, and Leonard felt a twinge of regret at the loss of more information about her. “It’s a long story. But…my very existence is against all manner of basic rules governing the use of magic, and if people find out…”

“What’s done is done, and it’s not your fault.”

“Still.” Sara shrugged. “I’d rather not have it get out.”

Leonard tilted his head. “Understandable.” He paused. “What does this all have to do with the person you saw?”

He figured it’s one of two things. It’s either the person who brought her back, or…

“He’s the one who killed me,” Sara told him bluntly, turning her hand over to contract her fingers around his. “Well, arranged to have me killed. And he knows. How I came back, and far too much about me.” She shuddered, and Leonard felt a rush of icy rage.

This man needed to die. But he wasn’t going to step on any toes. He’d be just as happy to help Sara kill him.

 “We’ll find him,” he told her. “And y’know, you can call challenge on him. That’s still a thing. The Guard…”

But Sara was shaking her head. “I just want him to go away,” she said with another sigh, “and preferably, never see him again.”

After a moment, Leonard nodded. And neither of them said anything more, not for the moment.

They just sat there, hands connected.

* * *

Leonard didn’t want to be here.

He wanted to be back at the Guild hall--one of their Guild halls--with Sara. Distracting her, showing her that what she’d told him didn’t change how he looked at her at all. No matter the past, she was one of the most _alive_ people he knew.

He’d admit, too, that there was a certain protective “ ** _mine_** ” instinct that was coiled inside him at the notion of this man who’d hurt the woman he cared for so much. Leonard knew his city, and he knew that, given the opportunity, he could track the man down. Make him pay. Perhaps for good.

But Sara hadn’t even wanted to give him the guy’s name, let alone a description, probably because she understood that instinct. He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to challenge the man herself—he’d seen her fight, and he found it unlikely that she wouldn’t win. Presumably, it was the same reason she wouldn’t go to the Guard, that she didn’t want the story to get out.

All in all, it made him distracted and frustrated, even as he tapped his fingers against the long, shallow wood case he was holding, the sign of a successful job. He’d arranged to meet Thawne—and presumably, Thawne’s associate—here in this tavern in the seedier side of the city, the sort of place where everyone knew perfectly well who the head of the Thieves Guild was and to stay the hell away from whatever was going down. It was surely not the sort of place he’d go for his own enjoyment.

“Snart.”

The name, as always, made a chill run down Leonard’s spine, and his eyes narrowed as he turned his head, watching Thawne and another man approach the back booth that Leonard preferred. Not good. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t seen them come in.

Thawne seemed to realize it, too. That cold smile was just a little too knowing. He nodded to Leonard, then turned to his companion, a smirking, handsome, black-clad man. The newcomer slid easily into the booth and rested his elbows on the table and his head on his clasped hands, regarding the thief.

“This is my associate, Malcolm Merlyn,” Thawne said smoothly, joining the other man. “I presume you have…it.”

Merlyn wasn’t overly threatening, but he tripped something in Leonard’s sense of people not to fuck with. Both dangerous and smart…and even more so, clever. He’d rather like to study the other man a little longer, but Thawne was staring at him challengingly, and he wanted both men gone more.

“Please,” he drawled, placing the case on the table. “They don’t even know it’s gone. And I’ll thank you to do nothing to indicate that it is, at least not yet. Stealing from the Temple District is a lovely way to wind up cursed.”

Merlyn’s smirk grew, like he found that amusing, but Thawne merely pulled the box toward himself, opening it to regard the item within. After only a moment, though, he nodded, closed it and looked back up at Leonard even as he made the case vanish.

“We still need the other two pieces,” he said coldly.

Leonard inclined his head toward the man, trying to keep his dislike off his face “As you’ve said. And you’ll have them. One at a time.”

“The next two nights?” Merlyn spoke, finally, a light and almost amused tone that raised the hairs on the back of Leonard’s neck for some reason. He regarded the other man coolly, which only made the smirk grow more. Merlyn leaned forward even as Leonard leaned back, and he spoke as though confiding a secret to a friend.

“And…something from the Assassins Guild,” he said. “Can we add that to our contract?”

Leonard’s eye narrowed, though he tried to keep the alarm from showing. Precisely what does this man want to steal from Sara’s Guild?

“We have alliance with them,” he said sharply. “I’m not going to break that word.”

Thawne actually laughed, drawing Leonard’s attention back to him.

“The word of a thief?” he said, a little scorn in his tone. “Truly, Master Snart?”

“Not my name,” Leonard retorted, letting some anger into his own voice. “And yes. The word of a thief. Would you like it if I broke my contract with _you_?”

It was a threat, and Thawne heard it. His own eyes narrowed, and the two men stared each other down, with Merlyn as an amused witness. But Thawne broke first, shaking his head roughly and sliding out of the booth to his feet.

“How will you let us know when you have them?” he snapped as Merlyn followed him.

“Come back to this tavern. If I have them, I’ll be here.” Leonard tilted his head to indicate the booth, pleased to have another way to make these troublemakers in his city dance to his tune.

“If you don’t…”

“I will.” Leonard’s voice was utterly cold. “Best get going now. You don’t want to be seen with a _thief_ , after all.”

He watched as the two men left, then sighed, running a finger down the condensation on his untouched drink.

And not for the first time, he cursed Lewis, even years after his death, for bringing these two to his door.

This was going to end in trouble. He just knew it.

He just hoped it didn’t end in tears.


End file.
